You Want Me to Eat That?
I don’t think my mother ever forgave me for learning to eat tuna salad at Camp, and pushing hers away. I’m not sure what it was, simple hunger, boredom, or the fact that her recipe contained things that didn’t set well. As you might imagine, food, and the meal service, plays an ever increasing role in the camp experience. In recent years we have added a designated chef to prepare the special meals, gluten-free, vegetarian, vegan, egg-free, etc. These special diets, those required to avoid reaction and medical problems, are different from just being a picky eater, for sure. But we do have a lot of picky eaters!
In her new book, Picky: How American Children Became the Fussiest Easters in History, historian Helen Zoe Veit deftly chronicles the evolution of the way we feed children from the time they ate, like adults, what was in front of them, to the all-too-common routine of preparing one meal for adults and another for children. She writes that the idea that children are wary of new tastes is a myth. Eating like a child once meant to dive into any and all things in front of them with enthusiasm. A fervor only duplicated at Camp these days when we serve pizza, or cookies! (Though grilled cheese and tomato soup can create a bit of buzz.)
At Camp, we all eat the same food. Mostly. The longtime Girls Camp Director, Noelle Todd, insisted that campers have what she called a “no thank-you portion” of any food they didn’t particularly like. I imagine most of it got pushed around the plate, never consumed. Or, maybe even worse, these portions had the same fate as the broccoli that was placed in front of my father when he was a child. It was rumored that it ended up in the pockets of his knickers. We stopped “no thank-you portions” some years ago.
We once had a camper whose parents gave the OK for their son to eat nothing (and I mean nothing!) but peanut butter sandwiches. Each year a new staff member, maybe not aware of the arrangement, would engage in a bit of tug of war to get him to eat a well colored plate. I recall that by the end of his tenure, his taste and tolerance for new foods did grow, but he took being a “picky” eater to a new frontier. Veit blames pickiness in child appetites to a variety of culprits: more frequent snacking, a belief that kids should eat bland foods, and a movement in the 1950’s (promoted by Dr. Benjamin Spock) that “forcing” children to eat food they don’t like might actually turn them into picky eaters. The old standby, “they will eat it when they get hungry” fell far out of fashion.
It’s clear to me that the way we eat, at Camp and at home, has changed a great deal since my 1974 acceptance of tuna salad. What’s also changed is the emphasis we have all placed on what we eat, how we eat, and the expectation of kids being offered a variety of food choices. Today we offer a breakfast yoga bar with fresh fruit, hot and cold cereal, and other goodies. In addition to the main course, a full salad bar is set at lunch and dinner. And, if no allergies are present, a jar of peanut butter and access to bread is available at each meal. Our campers do get choices, but they do still get opportunities (and gentle encouragement) to try new things. Sometimes they even find a new favorite!
Viet suggests, and what seems evident to those of us who spend 58 days a year eating 3 meals a day with kids, is not to engage in a power struggle over food. Make positive associations with the food, and when possible, involve kids in production of the meal, she offers. The harder one pushes to “just try it”, the harder the child pushes back. I think I may have seen this dynamic play out a few times in other areas from both parenting and camp director roles! Kids are good at resisting. Food is an important part of everyday life at Camp, just as the meal itself offers more than just sustenance. The deliberate pause 3 times a day is an opportunity for growth, connection, and often a bit of fun. (Yes, milk will come out of your nose if you laugh too hard when you are taking a drink!)
In one memorable episode, we put a particularly homesick camper on the phone with his mother, with the understanding that she was not going to offer a “rescue mission” and come pick him up. When it became evident to the camper that he needed to raise the stakes, he told his mother that he wasn’t eating (he was). After a long pause, the camper implored, “Mom, stop laughing!” I don’t recall if he ate the tuna salad, but I venture to guess that he ate new things and found some familiar favorites. I do recall that his homesickness vanished, and he returned for many years. The triangle is ringing and the food is on the table.
